Stockholm Syndrome. [Boy×Man]

▶ Chapter #3: Blu's?

It's called 'Stitches' by Shawn mendes.

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A few hours lata....

Klause was slanted forward, feet rooted to navy blue carpet which lay underneath himself and a-- otherwise pristine desk inside his home office. Pain still shooting through his groin once again.

Both well toned forearms lay flat against said desk --Klause tried keeping a statue pose so his body hardly moved if at all in the last ten minutes, besides, the less movement the better.

Timidly lifting his left forearm so it stretches toward the glass container that held his stress reliever --Alcohol. Fingertips drawing near the cup only for it to slide away because of the force behind his touch. "Motherfuc-...Ah!" Klause had just about had it with everything disappointing him lately. Especially his now spilled cup that held hennessey's golden liquid. In a spur of the moment the German leans upright, left palm laying flat against the sleek brown surface helping to keep him properly propped up.

Growling in frustration, by now thought of every torture method there is to man. Chains, flamethrower, dry ice, slicing --hell even human-trafficking! Yet it would be no real punishment if Klause couldn't inflict the pain himself, basically no conclusion came to mind that was worthy of a wrath that was soon to be thrusted upon a certain golden eyed pretty-boy who was disobediently roaming in Klause kitchen.

Huffing in mild fury, the crime lord shook his head in disapproval, Sethyna's innocent rebellion was ultimately --not to mention simply infuriating the short-tempered man.

To make matters worse Klause mother, Pearl, immediately attached herself to Sethyna for dear life and that definitely wasn't helping either; since falling into Klauses' clutches Sethyna persist to be none responsive, the boy was quieter than a professional assassin, why such minor detail made klause all the more eager to snap a few of Seth's limbs were beyond his apprehension.

Absentmindedly the elder man plopped down in his chair, "Damn." Scolding himself for momentarily forgetting the bruise on his penis cause by said boy who's teeth were like those equivalent to what Klause could only assume felt like nails pressed into his groin. Or maybe daggers?

Remarkably to his guards that witnessed the little rendezvous that was originally supposed to be between wilson and Klause; Were astonished that the boy wasn't faced down at the bottom of some random ditch right about now.

Even to himself, surprizingly Klause kept calm earlier while in his kitchen, only now wondered continuously if he should've just killed Sethyna on the spot along with that damn thieving ex-guardian bastered; Wilson --blast Wilson's head against the wall a couple of times firstly for good measure before he was to be killed. Instead Wilson was given a certain period of time.

Killing off Wilson, that sounded like a stress reliever. But no, a voice in klause head had him acting against the rash brutality he was holding within. However, the overwhelming propensity for violence pulsating within his veins were abnormally higher than usual, a urgency of having to bring back the balance in himself; something to restore his insanity to it's neutral setting before havoc consumes him. It was a traitvthat ran in the three Blumenthal male's. Jackov, Their father and Klause.